


La Familia lo es Todo (Family is Everything)

by Senneres



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Age of Sail, Backstory, Gen, Lesaro talking about Armando Salazar, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, historical spain, just a short one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senneres/pseuds/Senneres
Summary: After a long couple of years sailing with Capitán De Bertendona on La Nuestra, Officer Guillermo Lesaro returns to Cádiz to await his next assignment. While he waits, he pays a long overdue visit to Navarre, an old family friend of the Lesaro's. Navarre is nearly retired from the Spanish Armada, and tells Lesaro some surprising news about an old friend...
Kudos: 11





	La Familia lo es Todo (Family is Everything)

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Cádiz, Spain; two or more years after the failed attempt of England to invade and capture the city in 1702. I headcanon Lieutenant Lesaro is roughly in his early twenties here (or at least, a very mature 19 year old), and has not been made a Lieutenant - yet.

“My daughter insisted on cooking!” Navarre’s whiskered cheeks stretched wide in a proud smile as he waited for his guest to sit. “Ever since she heard the great and esteemed Guillermo Lesaro was coming to honour us with a visit!”  
  
“Then I am even more sorry,” Lesaro sat on the edge of the proffered chair, and tried not to look too stiff. “That I cannot stay long.”  
  
Navarre waved a hand as he relaxed into a chair across from him, almost as if he didn’t really believe Lesaro would actually go.

“We’ll see, we’ll see.” He smiled benignly at his guest, already pouring out a generous splash of madeira for him without asking. “Did you know De Bertendona’s wife is our neighbour?”

Lesaro nodded. “I did, Capitán De Bertendona himself rode with me here.”  
  
“No doubt he will be wanting to see her straight away then!” Navarre winked at Lesaro, sliding a full glass across the table towards him.  
  
“He did - often speak of her to me when we were alone,” Lesaro cleared his throat, his fingers circling the glass of madeira. He could not offend his host by refusing to drink, but he knew he’d regret it on the long ride back to the docks.

“She read all his letters to us, it was a party every time Señora De Bertendona got a letter from her husband! And he could not stop praising you! My daughter looked forward to those letters, too, just so she could hear more about you! She says it is you who should be honoured in Cádiz, because you are exactly the kind of hero Spain needs!”

Lesaro stiffened. He never felt comfortable at being praised, and the thought of Navarre’s daughter building up misconceived ideas of his heroics –

“I wouldn’t believe everything Capitán De Bertendona writes,” he said. “He – enjoys a good story, but the reality is not always the same as the stories.”

“Ah, Officer Lesaro, if only you could stay and tell us your own stories!” The old man shook his head, sighing.

“I am sorry, but I have been ordered back to La Nuestra this evening.”

Navarre shrugged, though he said with a crafty look, “Well, you will be missing out on delicious Spanish food! My daughter will be very unhappy she missed you!”

“I am sure, she would only find me boring,” he said quietly, and took a polite sip of madeira, hoping to change the subject.

“Boring!” Navarre chuckled.  
  
 _Most ladies do,_ he thought privately. _But then, it was better that way._

“You are too humble!” Navarre went on. “I’m sure she would rather hear your stories than the exaggerated ones of ‘Cádiz’s Son’!”

Lesaro blinked. “Cádiz's – Son?”

“Haven’t you heard? No one talks of anything else, but - ah! I forget! You’ve been on La Nuestra until only yesterday, of course you wouldn’t have heard!”

Lesaro shook his head.

“Capitán Armando Salazar is the great hero of Cádiz! Fought off the invaders, turned the tide against them. Saved whole towns! Some call him Cádiz’s Son, some call him the new hope of Spain.” Navarre scratched the side of his beard. “Agueda’s boy, Bracero – have you met him? Never mind, never mind, plenty of time for that later – he keeps trying to convince me to apply to sail under Capitán Salazar – says they need more experienced men – but…” He looked down at his scarred fist. “I’m not good in battle anymore. Not like I used to be. And this Capitán Salazar is not a man to shy away from battle -”

“Perdon -” Lesaro leaned forward slightly, unable to comprehend what he had been hearing. “Did you say _Capitán_ Salazar?”

For a split second, Lesaro thought that perhaps Navarre had meant another Armando. Or perhaps he’d heard the name wrong. Perhaps he’d actually said something else, like Fernando Salaya, or –

“Sí, Capitán Armando Salazar.” Navarre said, looking at Lesaro curiously. “Do you know him?”

“I – I knew an Armando Salazar… some years ago…”  
  
But it _couldn’_ t be his old friend. Mando – a hero? _And_ a Capitán?

“It cannot be…” His forehead creased in disbelief.

He still remembered Mando’s fury, the way he’d clenched his teeth, heavy eyebrows drawn together as he’d hissed that he’d sooner spit on his father’s grave than continue in the same career as him.

 _That_ Mando…?

Surely not. 

“Officer Lesaro,” Navarre was concerned. “Is something the matter?”

“Forgive me,” he muttered, “But I – I do know him. Only – I have not seen him since he was –”

He found himself reluctant to speak; but his host patiently waited, showing no sign of being bored or impatient. It was not something Lesaro was used to, speaking to someone who was actually interested in what he had to say.

“Go on,” Navarre encouraged gently, sensing his reticence. “How do you know Capitán Salazar?”

There were so many things he could have said. So many memories he could have shared. But for some reason, the easiest one to share, was the first time they had started to be friends.

“Before his mother died, I - did not know him very well at all. But it was when he was sailing on the San Salvador…”

Navarre nodded. He’d heard of the fate of San Salvador. Most had.

“They were attacked, boarded, set on fire. Pirates.”

Lesaro tactfully left out details. Neither he nor Navarre needed them. They’d seen enough battles to know what it would have been like.

“The crew would have burned to death, or drowned. Fortunately, Capitán De Bertonada had been forced to alter La Nuestra’s course to avoid inclement weather, and it brought us close – close enough to come to their rescue…”

Lesaro stopped speaking. It had been the day he’d lost his eye. He’d only been a second shipmate at the time, not even an officer.

But losing an eye meant he should have been discharged. 

_Would_ have been. 

If it hadn’t been for Mando, staunchly telling every single man that Guillermo Lesaro had saved not just his life, but the lives of at least five others. In fact, he wouldn’t stop talking about how Lesaro had saved him, and had gone on fighting, even after his eye had been lost.

Capitán De Bertendona was so impressed by Mando’s story – and even more by his staunch loyalty to Lesaro – that he decided to speak on Lesaro’s behalf. If it hadn’t been for both Capitán De Bertendona and Mando being so vocal, Lesaro would have been told to go.

But De Bertendona adamantly refused Lesaro’s discharge papers. Said if his own Lieutenant had showed the kind of courage Lesaro had, they might have lost less men when they'd boarded the San Salvador to repel the English pirates that swarmed over it.

If it hadn’t been for De Bertendona’s kindness, Lesaro’s career in the navy would have been cut short.

Mando had brought him back home afterwards. Had insisted on seeing him to his family home, staying until he was satisfied Lesaro would survive his injuries.

Lesaro never forgot that.

So when Mando’s father was jailed, and then his mother had – fallen ill and died, Lesaro was already at his side, even when no one else was.

“ _La familia lo es todo_ ,” he’d told him. “And you are in my family now.”  
  
Mando had said nothing, but the anguish in his eyes had cut him to the heart. He threw his arms around him, instinctively knowing no further words were needed. And the bodywracking sobs that had poured out of Mando, muffled into his shoulder, had come, and did not stop for a long time.  
  
“It was a battle, but we fought it together,” Lesaro nodded. “So… sí. I _do_ know Capitán Salazar.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted on Tumblr April 2020)
> 
> AUTHOR’S NOTE: 
> 
> Wine glasses, such as the ones mentioned here, were more like shotglasses (or squat, short glasses) in the early part of the 1700s; fine wine glasses existed but were literally handed to you, you drank from them, and passed them straight back. It wasn’t until the late 1700s-onwards that the practice changed to glasses remaining on the table. Would be interested to know more about the specific regional differences in Spain, as per wine drinking etiquette… (another thing to add to my research pile?)
> 
> PERSONAL NOTE:
> 
> This is just a little fic I’ve been working on, a small part of a larger backstory I am writing for Capitán Salazar and Lieutenant Lesaro. There’s another oneshot coming, also set in Cádiz… but I hope you enjoyed it!  
> (Not enough General historical fanfics for the men of La Maria Silenciosa, in my opinion!)


End file.
